


let the whole world know

by paperpenpal



Series: Read the Syllabus [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, No Beta, Romance, Secret Relationship, Teacher AU, five times fic, fluff and cheese, it's just a scene collection, other characters show up but not prominently enough to tag, playing with tenses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25873162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperpenpal/pseuds/paperpenpal
Summary: Five times Sylvain and Ingrid almost let their secret relationship slip and one time where everyone already knows.Teachers AU
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Read the Syllabus [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778224
Comments: 29
Kudos: 76





	let the whole world know

There are several near misses as far as their secret relationship goes. The first of which happens relatively early on.

It’s one of their early dates, way before the laughing declarations of love in the living room they now share as Sylvain dips her low when his favorite morning coffee playlist sings, before she forces him onto a red yoga mat because he kept bothering her while she was working out, before the night she spilled dark purple wine onto Sylvain’s very expensive white couch and before she rolled her eyes when he simply flipped the cushion. 

It’s back when they were still toeing the line between friends and more. It’s dates that end without kisses, unheard of now, and text messages left for ten minutes to think and reread before sending despite the fact that they’ve known each other for so long.

It’s coffee outside of Garreg Mach at a cute little cafe in a University town twenty-five minutes away via highway on a bright spring weekend day.

Ingrid remembers seeing Sylvain first, sitting on the patio table, drumming his fingers alongside the surface as he looked out into the street, waiting for her. He had been wearing aviator sunglasses, which she only remembers because she would have thought them to be ridiculous on anyone else and she had found him handsome in his shirt, probably blue, nearly gawking at the way his collarbone peeked out from under the collar of the deep v-neck.

To her credit, it only took about thirty seconds from across the street while she waited for the meter to accept her card before she collected herself, which was much more than the young university students at the next table over not so subtly staring could say.

He had insisted on paying. She had only allowed him if he promised that she would let him get the next one.

“Next one?” He had asked. His eyebrows shooting up. He had looked so excited and earnest that she could do little more than blush and wave it away as casual as she could.

There were many next ones.

“How’d you even find this place?” She had asked when they sat down later, coffee in hand.

“I went to school here.” He answered, leaning forward against the table towards her, attentive and listening. “This was where I used to slack off when I was supposed to be doing work.”

His lazy smile was charming, and it’s funny how quickly that shift happened. They’d been on three dates at that point, and with every single one, Ingrid found herself more and more endeared to him. She hadn’t actually thought that it would happen. She had figured that they might enjoy themselves on a few outings and then likely go back to being friends. She hadn’t expected the fluttering, the blushing, the way his hand crept ever closer, nearer and nearer to hers, and how she never thought to pull back.

Honestly, she had just never considered him. She’d been too busy with adjusting to work and focused too hard on her students to think about the handsome history teacher in the classroom next door who kept interrupting to borrow school supplies. Not to mention the fact that she had hated him when they first met.

They’d been having a nice time chatting about what school had been like for them when a shock of white hair caused Ingrid to abruptly duck underneath the table right as Sylvain was talking about the three different majors he had considered.

“Sylvain!” She hissed, pulling him down roughly by his shirt.

She must have been stronger than he’d realized because he nearly crashed his head against the wooden surface, narrowly dodging the edge as he ducked, face next to hers. 

“Wha-?”

“Shhh!” She glared, looking up behind him at the giant window that looked into the cafe proper. Sure enough, she had seen what she thought she had. Edelgard’s profile, a hand on her chin, staring up at the menu board.

Sylvain chanced a glance back, but before he could get a proper look, Ingrid had tugged and tugged hard, with enough force that he grimaced while whipping back. “What?” He tried again, dropping his voice to a companionable whisper.

“It’s Edelgard.” She explained, still staring past him and at the window, “And hold on…is that…is that Dimitri?”

"I’m not sure,” he said, a small amused smile on his face, “You won’t let me look.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes before twisting his torso, pointing as she did so. Several of the patrons stared at them, no doubt confused as to why two grown adults were hiding underneath a patio table on the sidewalk outside of a coffee shop. 

“Oh yeah,” he half hummed, “That does look like them. Want to go say hi?”

“Are you _insane?_ ” She twisted him back towards her, and he winced again, “I thought we were trying to keep this low-key.”

“Ingrid, we’re just having coffee.” He said, rubbing his shoulder, “Just like they are. What’s the big deal?”

The big deal was that it didn’t feel like just coffee. It felt like Sylvain was playing with the tips of her fingers. It felt like there was a warmth creeping in on her that wasn’t entirely from the beautiful weather. It felt like she liked him and wasn’t prepared to hide it today. 

Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked over the top of Sylvain’s head. His expression read as clearly amused but willing to play along. Dimitri and Edelgard were standing quite close, chatting about something. It looked relatively casual.

“Uh, do you think they’re-”

Sylvain reeled back so violently that he knocks into the table, “What? No-” he winced, and Ingrid couldn’t help but reach out to run her hand through where he had hit himself, “they’re step-siblings. Didn’t you know?”

Ingrid frowned. She hadn’t known actually. “What are they doing here?”

“They grew up here. We went to the same University. Can we get out from under the table now?”

“No.” She said sharply. Ingrid slid off her seat, pulling Sylvain entirely off of his as well and began to crouch walk away from Edelgard and Dimitri’s line of sight. “Why on Earth would you pick a place that our coworkers might go to?”

“How was I supposed to know they’d be here?” He asked, but instead of following along, he simply rose to his full height, picking up their coffee cups as Ingrid continued to move towards the sidewalk.

“What are you doing? Get down!”

“Ingrid, they’re at the cash register. I think we’re safe.” 

She sighed, standing and quickly grabbing onto Sylvain’s arm to pull him further and further down the street, away from the cute little cafe. 

“We have to go somewhere else,” she grumbled.

Sylvain’s lips curled into a mischievous little grin. “My place or yours?”

Ingrid smacked him on the chest.

They ended up at her place. 

* * *

Their biggest failure, the time that they’re both entirely sure that another person clues in but is too polite to say so - to polite to confirm, is during a grocery store run. It was their first summer together, only a few months into dating, but Ingrid had been spending the bulk of the season with him. 

He was slowly encouraging her to leave her stuff at his place. It was still early, he knew, but his place was bigger and much nicer than her dingy little studio, and he liked waking up to her most days out of the week.

Ingrid’s particular and strict. She’d already told him that come the start of the school year, she would be staying at her place most nights, so he had been trying to get her to spend as much time as possible with him as he could get away with.

Turns out, he could get away with quite a lot.

But not quite everything. She would only go on grocery runs with him if he agreed to go to the store outside of town and not the one ten minutes away from him. It was ridiculous, but for more time with Ingrid, it was a concession Sylvain was more than willing to make, especially since the days moving towards August were slowly creeping closer.

He kind of shot himself in the foot here. He’d become so used to her constant, mostly open presence that he didn’t really want to go back to hiding it again. Hell, on most days, with the exception of when he met up with their friends from work, he kept her as his lock-screen.

She didn’t, she met up with the girls too often to bother changing it all the time, but he knew that his name on her phone was listed under “the boyfriend” and that was more than enough for him. 

She had been chatting with someone in the cereal aisle. He’d broken off with her to grab her favorite ice cream and was approaching when her eyes went wide. She had only just managed a subtle shake of her head when he got to her.

“Hey babe-” he started but immediately switched directions when Marianne turned around. He hadn’t recognized the school nurse from behind “-by carrots!” he adjusts. “Baby carrots! I was looking for baby carrots - hey guys, didn’t expect to see you here. How are you? You guys here together?”

He was babbling, and that was probably the worst save in the world, but Marianne was way too polite to say or do anything more than look confused. 

Ingrid jumped in, clearly hoping to salvage the sinking ship from the giant hole he had blown into it, “Oh hi Sylvain. Just um, grocery shopping. Marianne lives nearby, it turns out, I just happened to run into her. Do you live nearby?”

Marianne had been over before, during one of the parties he used to throw before some of Ingrid’s stuff ended up at his place. “No, actually,” he replied, “I was just passing through and had a craving for ice cream and uh…carrots.”

Marianne’s eyebrows furrowed, “Ice cream and carrots?”

“Uh, yeah, you dip the carrots in ice cream and eat it.”

It sounded so disgusting that even he couldn’t make that sound convincing. Ingrid looked like she couldn’t decide to laugh or murder him; it was hard to tell.

They did end up getting the carrots. It was just as disgusting as it sounded.

* * *

One time, it happens completely unexpectedly because it’s at his place, and his place is supposed to be a safe zone. Hilda had come barreling in unannounced while Ingrid had been finishing her shower. She had only caught the tail end of the conversation because Sylvain had been trying desperately to usher the cheer coach out the door, speaking way too loudly, Ingrid knew, because he was trying to signal her not to come out in only a towel.

Fortunately, she heard him, but it was a near miss, and she had to catch herself from sliding past the stairwell, nearly slipping from her wet feet, to hide against the corner to eavesdrop while Sylvain pleaded desperately with Hilda.

“I don’t get what the big deal is,” Hilda said, and while Ingrid didn’t dare to peek out, she knew that the woman was likely crossing her arms. “Just let me meet her.”

“I’ve already told you she’s shy.” Sylvain huffed, sounding annoyed, “And she’s in the shower so if you could just-”

“I can wait. You’ve been dating for a while, right?” Hilda pressed, “What’s it been- like a year? Isn’t it about time someone met her?”

“I mean -” 

“Unless...she isn’t actually your girlfriend.”

“What?”

“I mean, you keep going on about this girl you're dating but none of us have met her. But there’s clearly someone over because -” Ingrid didn’t catch what Hilda had been doing, perhaps pointing at something? “So what, is she a booty call? Oh, _or,_ does your girlfriend not know-”

“Hilda, I’m going to stop you right there.” Sylvain sounded incredibly annoyed and perhaps even a little angry at the implication, “It’s one girl, it’s the same girl that I’ve been telling you about, but she doesn’t want to meet you.”

“Why not?”

“Hilda-”

“Oh, do you mean me specifically? Is it because we -”

”Hilda!” 

“Alright, alright, sheesh. I’m going, I’m going. See you at school.”

“ _Bye_ Hilda.” 

It’s not until she heard the clack of the door closing that Ingrid stepped out to where Sylvain can see her from the front door by the bottom of the stairwell. She leaned one elbow on the banister that peered down into the entry area, hair dripping onto the hardwood below, while her other hand held her towel in place.

Sylvain’s worried expression glanced back up at her. “Um,” he started, hands shoved deep in the pocket of his sweatpants, “Hilda dropped by, she wanted to use the bathroom.”

Ingrid raised an eyebrow, face as neutral as she could manage while mostly naked. “Did you and Hilda-”

“It’s not what you think!” He interrupted quickly.

Ingrid said nothing, only continued to stare.

“Okay, it’s probably exactly what you think, but it was a long time ago!” 

Ingrid broke out into a wide grin, “Sylvain,” she said, trying not to laugh, “I know. I don’t care. I just wanted to make you sweat a little.”

“You _know_?”

“I was there that night when you guys left together.” She laughed, “It was my second week.”

“You’re evil.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

Ingrid leaned back, grinning, “I’m sorry. I love you?” she said, trying to sound innocent.

Sylvain didn’t buy it. Instead, he raced up the steps, two at a time, so quickly that Ingrid didn’t manage to get away in time before he threw her over his shoulder, bounding towards the bedroom as she shrieked, laughing and halfheartedly pounding on his back.

(She never told him that she hadn’t been trying to get away in the first place.)

* * *

Sylvain almost blows it for them because he had been drunk and missing her.

He called her three times within the span of the hour, which was what prompted her to call back. She must have been worried. 

_“Hey, everything okay?”_

He remembers her quiet hushed voice sounding almost a little frantic and voices in the background, likely Mercedes’ and Annette’s and whatever movie had been playing. 

Sylvain hadn’t meant to interrupt her movie night. He’d actually been the one to convince her to go, but that was mostly because he didn’t want her to worry all night, knowing that he had to go back home for the weekend to deal with the aftermath of his prodigal brother’s sudden return from out of nowhere. She asked if he wanted her to go with him, but he had declined because he didn’t want her to deal with his family crap. Now he wished he hadn’t.

Out on the porch steps of a family home he had always hated, he missed her more than anything.

”Yeah,” he said, “just missing you. Sorry, I know that you’re with Mercedes and Annette, I didn’t want to bother you with this but, I dunno, I just felt like calling.”

“Oh, Sy- Babe,” Ingrid never used pet-names with him. She was likely only doing it so that Annette and Mercedes couldn’t accidentally overhear, but it was still nice. It made him feel warm and loved. “Never apologize for that. Where are you? Do you need me to pick you up?”

“I’m like two hours away Ingrid.” He sighed, trying hard not to slur, “And I can’t leave my car here. S’okay, just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Okay,” she conceded quietly. He could practically see the expression she was making. It was probably a small frown. She might even have bitten her lip, “what are you doing right now?” 

He glanced around. Winter had settled in, and he was sitting, bundled up, alone trying to see if the fresh air would help. Inside the house behind him, his family continues to argue. “Just sittin’”

On the other side of the line, he could hear something shuffling, and then the background noise dissipates alongside a clack as if Ingrid had closed a door. “You know, I changed your contact back to your name on my phone.”

He frowned, “Yeah?” Of course she did. They were deep in the school year, although her name is still marked as “absolute stunner” on his own. He just did his best to keep his phone in his pocket at all times so no one could see. 

“Yeah, Annette was asking why you were calling me.”

He smiled at the mention of their friend. ”What’d you tell her?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.” 

“What?” He chuckled, “Who do they think you’re talking to now?”

“I told them I’m calling the secret boyfriend.” 

“Right after I called you three times? Won’t that be suspicious?”

“It is.” She admitted, “But I was worried, so I didn’t really care.”

“Does that mean we get to tell them?”

“ _Babe._ ”

“Right, worth a shot.” 

“Sylvain,” her voice was quiet but warm, “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah, Ing, I do. I love you too.”

* * *

At that same girls’ night, several hours before Sylvain’s first phone call, Ingrid struggled to field questions about her boyfriend from Annette and Mercedes’ polite onslaught. They’ve talked about him before, talked about it quite a lot at this point, but it’d been getting harder and harder to remain vague.

They knew so much about him already. Early on in their relationship, Ingrid had let slip that Sylvain worked in education, which only resulted in Dorothea and Hilda throwing a flurry of names at her, and since then, Ingrid had made a point of being much more careful. She talked only about the sweet things he did for her, the places he had taken her and the way in which he made her feel.

“Things are wonderful,” She said, smiling into her mug of hot chocolate after Mercedes had inquired.

“Oh!” Annette beamed from where she sat on the floor, eyes wide and curious, “That’s so lovely Ingrid! What’s he like?”

She pursed her lip, trying to find a way to dodge the question. “I’ve already told you about him.”

“Well, I know, but I love hearing you gush about him. Plus, it’s kind of hard to have an idea of him when I don’t even know his name.”

Ingrid had considered making one up a long time ago but decided that it wasn’t a good idea. Plus, it didn’t seem like something that Sylvain would take to. So far, they’ve just been calling him “the boyfriend” with various different adjectives as modifiers. Dorothea was fond of the word “perfect,” while Mercedes preferred “sweet.”

“Sorry,” Ingrid said sheepishly, hiding deeper into her mug.

Annette shook her head quickly, looking apologetic. “Oh no! I’m sorry Ingrid, I didn’t mean to pressure you or anything.”

Contrary to what Sylvain might think, she didn’t have an easy time hiding things either. He might have complained about it more, but it wasn’t like she wanted to keep things from their friends. The secret was a necessity because there were just too many risks in them being together.

Technically, they weren’t doing anything wrong, but she didn’t want her reputation as a teacher marred by the fact that she was dating a coworker, especially if it ended up blowing up in their faces.

But it sucked hiding such a large part of her life. She didn’t like it any more than Sylvain did. 

Not to mention how difficult it could be with how relentless Dorothea could be with her prodding. As much as Ingrid loved the other girl, she was almost thankful that Dorothea couldn’t make it to movie night. She can be pretty hard to bat off.

Mercedes and Annette were much more polite about it, but they were no less curious.

Dorothea though, God, Ingrid loved her, but that girl could be incredibly nosy when it came down to it. Not that Dorothea would ever violate her trust, but she definitely wanted to know, and the longer Ingrid and Sylvain dated, the harder it became to dodge her questions.

It’d been easier when they were first dating because Ingrid could wave off a lot of the prying questions with how casual they had been, but now, over a year in, it was clear that they were pretty serious. 

Still, Ingrid didn’t want to risk it because, in the event it didn’t work out, in the event that she and Sylvain broke up, the scandal would be awful both personally and professionally.

She hated thinking about it. Ingrid could no longer imagine a life without him anymore. No part of her wanted to.

Sylvain was the person she woke up next to, even when she slipped out of bed early so that she could rush back to her own apartment. He made her laugh at jokes she would normally not find funny and got away with things she would never think to let anyone else do because he was just - he was _Sylvain_. She made exceptions for him and very few others, and he never took advantage of it. Besides, everything he did was out of love for her, she knew. 

“No, it’s fine,” Ingrid ended up saying, “I actually like to gush about him. He’s just very private, that’s all.” 

It’s not that much of a lie. He was private because she asked him to be, and in the end, she knew it was because he made exceptions for her too.

* * *

There’s a knock on her classroom door. When she looks up from where she’s sitting at her desk, grading papers, she sees Sylvain leaning heavily against the door frame, taking up the entirety of its space.

One of his hands is shoved lazily into the pocket of his way too well-fitting jeans; the other hangs at his side. There’s a smile on his face that he shouldn’t have at school, and she presses down the way it makes her face heat.

“Stop looking at me like that.” She tells him, glancing back down at her desk. There’s a smudge of red ink where it shouldn’t be on the paper she’s marking. If he asks, she’ll chalk it up to the way that spring creeps into her classroom.

“Like what?” He asks innocently.

She sighs, rising from her chair. “Just because everyone knows now doesn’t mean you can do that.”

He blinks but keeps his amused grin. “Do what?”

Ingrid knows that Sylvain knows exactly what she’s talking about. She’s seen that look enough times in the past two years to know what’s running in his head. She refuses to say it out loud. Instead, she shuffles the paper at her desk into her bag. 

“You know what,” she says as she steps up to him.

He straightens and peers down at her, his hands go to reach hers.

“Not at school,” she scolds, batting him away.

He pouts. “I can’t even hold your hand?” 

She brushes past him and listens to him laugh. “Not until we’re off school grounds.” She says as he catches up, falling into step beside her, “You know the rules.”

They aren’t actually explicitly in the school rules. There is technically nothing saying that they can’t at least hold hands in the hallway. They had actually done it before, but in the sense of professionalism, she limits their contact. Even if it’s the Friday before spring break and everyone has already abandoned the halls.

When they reach the entrance of the school, he turns to her, “Can I at least open the door for you?”

She rolls her eyes and feigns considering. He grins as he waits for her answer.

“I’ll allow it.” She says, trying to maintain her firm tone but failing.

“As my lady wishes,” he says with an exaggerated bow before hurrying to push the door open with his back. 

The late afternoon spring sun hits them. It’s warm out, and the quad is strangely full of people clustered around chatting. Normally, the students scurry off as quickly as possible once the bell rings unless they had after school commitments, and with it being the start of a holiday, she knows that’s unlikely.

Annette and Mercedes wave to her from one side of the parking lot, and she spots Dorothea talking to Felix while he crosses his arms, frowning at her. She would have thought that they would have all run off by now. They were all going to meet up at the bar later.

Sylvain begins to walk off towards the sidewalk, crossing the parking lot with a skip in his step that wasn’t there before. He might even be whistling. 

“Good day?” She asks.

“About to be a great one.” He says, spinning to face her, walking backwards towards the street.

She blinks at him, confused but amused. He’s been in a pretty constant blissful mood ever since they moved in together and made their relationship public. She can’t help the way it makes her smile too. 

“At least,” he continues, “if it goes my way.”

“If what goes your way?”

He doesn’t answer her. Instead, Sylvain pulls her to the street fully, catching both of her hands in his. 

“We’re off school grounds.” He says smugly.

She looks down at their shoes. They are indeed now on the street. Technically he’s right. “Okay, fine.” She concedes, “But you’re still not allowed to kiss me.”

“Hmm, we’ll see about that,” he says.

She thinks he’s about to lean down and try, but, instead, he spins her abruptly back to face the school parking lot.

If he hadn’t been holding onto her shoulders, she might have fallen.

Several dozen students and faculty members are standing with signs that she somehow missed, each with a decorated letter spelling out, _Will you marry me?_

“Wh-” she starts, but the rest of the question dies when she turns back to Sylvain, now on one knee, a little velvet box in his hand and a nervous smile on his face. 

She might have made fun of it were it anyone else, might think it too grand or too cheesy, but this gesture from Sylvain, one that says that he wants the whole world to know, makes her melt. 

Her breath catches in her throat, something stings in her eyes, and she cannot believe she is this person in love with this ridiculous man.

“So what’d you say?” He says nervously when she can’t answer. He takes one deep calming breath that doesn’t seem to work. “Ingrid Brandl Galatea, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she chokes out, “yes!” 

Sylvain jumps up, pulls her to him, and lifts, spinning her around. Behind them, she can hear the cheers of their friends and her students, but all she can see is Sylvain.

He does end up getting his kiss, just this once.


End file.
